Page 64 of Savage Seduction

“I don’t know,” she admits, shaking her head. Turning to me, her expression hardens. “Whoever it was knew their way around firewalls, were able to track through my virtual private network, and no matter how many times I added a new layer of cloning protection, they found me. I was so busy running from them I wasn’t able to determine who they were.”

“You’re the techiest tech I know. Who the hell was able to track you? This is getting crazy. Where were you when you first noticed them?” I ask. “Maybe we can figure out who they are by where they found you?”

“That’s a possibility.” She taps commands into the computer as screen after screen pops up on the monitors. “I’m hoping that by utilizing both computers at the same time, it’ll increase my processing speed to avoid whoever it is. One thing’s for sure, a newer, faster computer is on my list for Santa this year.”

“Good idea.”

The computers are now up and running as she types in a few commands. “That should give us a little more time,” shesays, tapping one last key. The screen flips past three more screens before a search engine I don't recognize pops up on the monitor. “When they found me last time, I was in deep.”

“Where?”

“The dark web… as you like to call it. I’d found someone in Russia who was a member of this crazy underground cult that worshipped serial killers.”

“Worshipped?” My stomach churns. “What is wrong with people?”

“The cool thing about this Russian dude is he infiltrated the cult to write a documentary about them. Apparently, his own sister had gotten caught up with these freaks and he was looking for a way to get her out.”

“Is this secret group based in Russia? Is everyone in the group worshipping The Butcher?”

“No, no. This cult has many serial killers amongst their ranks, even ones the law-abiding citizens of the world have yet to hear about. The interesting thing about the cult is it’s not based anywhere, really. They have followers all around the globe, which I find terrifying to even think about.”

“Wow, that is scary.”

“Anyway, this Russian hacker is badass from what I can tell. One of the reasons he has been so successful breaching the community of psychos is he’s Russian.”

“I’m a little surprised,” I say. “What does being a Russian have to do with it?”

“Well, they’ve got some of the most sophisticated hacking capabilities in the world, and since their government doesn’t mind them breaking the law, as long as they’re hacking US targets, it’s a no-brainer.” London types:Followers of Kaliinto the search bar.

“Who is Kali?”

“I had to search that on the web as well. Apparently, Kali is one of the most blood-thirsty gods in the world. Thesepeople named their cult after a god that quite literally, drinks the blood of his victims.”

The dark web search page suddenly disappears, and her screen goes black.

“What happened?” I ask.

“For some reason this happened last time. It didn’t last long,” she says as the screen flashes white and then scrolls with numbers. She hits the escape key, holding it along with the control and shift keys. The scrolling numbers abruptly come to a stop. “Here we go.”

The letters on the screen change from English to Cyrillic. “Great, now what?” I ask.

London types in a series of commands and a document icon shows up in the middle of the screen. She double clicks it and waits for it to open. “Come on, little computer, you got this.”

As soon as she finishes speaking, page after page opens on the computer. “Damn, look at all this.” I lean in to get a better look. Old black and white photographs appear. Estimating from the style of the clothes the people wore, it was the late 1800s. A man dressed in an old Confederate general’s uniform stood arm in arm with a gentleman in a suit from that time period. “Who are they?”

London leans in and begins examining the photograph. “There doesn’t appear to be anything written on it to indicate who they are… wait a second.” She taps a few keys, and the image changes to a negative image. As soon as it changes, faint lettering becomes visible.

“Is that from the back side of the photograph?” I ask.

“I don’t think so,” she says. “It seems more like a type of ink that must not be as visible when looking at it in normal view.”

“It says General Lee and Thomas Kingsley.”

“Thomas Kingsley?” London says. “Let me see what I canfind about him.” She taps away on the computer while I sit back and wait, my brain working overtime to figure out who the man was. “Here we go.”

I sit up.

“Thomas Kingsley was a famous historian back during the Civil War era. Southern gentleman, with lots of money. No frigging way.”

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